One Blaze of Glory
by MissaThePEANUT
Summary: This year of my life is going to be the one that I hope to find my one song glory during. It’s not a simple tale, nor is it one for the weakhearted. This is my story about moving on, and putting my life back together.


Author's Note: This Story is basically part of a series with my other story, revolving around Mimi, which will be updated soon. But anyways, tell me what you think.

One Blaze of Glory: The Story of Roger Davis

Prologue

For most people, music is something enjoyable, something to help them to make it through rough times, and to celebrate good ones. For me, music is everything. It is my passion and the only thing I can count on for always being there.

Many people wonder why I would start my story like this, but for me, music is the beginning and the end of everything. Things as simple as tying a shoe, and things as complex as love can be summed up in a song.

To finish a song with the right message and the right melody would give me the glory that I want before my time comes.

At one point, I thought that I had everything. Life couldn't have been any better, but like everything else in life, it came to a crashing, horrific end.

I got sucked into the Rock n' Roll scene. I was a junkie, straight up. Name any drug, and I've probably done more than a few times. I've smoked pot since high school, but I'm not talking about drugs like that, I mean the heavy shit-heroin, cocaine, speed, meth-that kinda stuff.

As I was getting heavily into the scene, I met the girl of my dreams. She was into all the same stuff as me, she always wanted a party, and she was crazy for me.

I regret to say that aside from April and my band, life wasn't all that great. Even though I was making a fair bit of money, it was getting spent stupidly-supporting both mine and April's habits. I was ignoring the person most important to me-Mark, the only person who has, as much as I hate admitting it, always helped me to do what I needed to do…even if I was an arrogant bastard in return.

I lived in Scarsdale growing up, with Mark. The second we finished highschool, we were gone-we didn't even go home after school finished. We kept in contact with our parents, but neither of us felt like spending tons of time with the people who brought into such a shitty world.

A few months afterwards, we became friends with Benny and Collins, and together, we rented a huge industrial loft that we would live in for awhile. A little while after that, Mark's ex-girlfriend, Maureen moved in with us. Eventually Benny got married to Allison Grey and went to live as a lapdog in Westport. He promised us free rent, a promise that he's surprisingly kept up until now. Eventually, April moved into the loft with the 3 of us, and Collins left for a teaching gig at some college.

This was the climax of my career as a musician. Life was great- I took advantage of it and began living my life by the good old "Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll" cliché. I was never home-always at some party or another.

After about 5 or 6 months, April started to feel sick, and we thought that she was pregnant or something-we couldn't have been more wrong. She tested positive for HIV. I was devastated. April was going to die because of the lifestyle we were living. Mark and April both tried to make me get tested, but I couldn't bear to know if I was positive.

December 19th, 1988, Mark came home to the loft to find April dead in the bath tub. I was out partying-I didn't come home until 3 hours later. When I found out April was dead, I instantly went and hid to shoot up-everything would be better if I was high, that way, I wouldn't feel anything. April wasn't gone. It was all just a cruel practical joke to bring me back to reality. I honestly wish that I could say that that's how it was. The night April died was the last night that I played guitar-It was put into a case, never to be played again.

"We've got aids. Sorry baby, I can't live knowing I'm going to die soon. I love you. Keep your fire burning strong my love."

That was the note she left me. That's all. That and a few drops of blood. 'Keep your fire burning strong my love.' Didn't she realize that the fire would be extinguished when her life was extinguished? 'We've got AIDS'??? Did she know something I didn't?

I spent the first 6 months after April's death so high I didn't know what was what. Mark brought me back down to earth yelling at me, telling me I was an idiot-giving the sort of a reality check that hurts to get. After I came down from the high I was on, Mark forced me into a cab-I was getting tested, and that was final.

We went back to the loft after the tests to await the lovely results. I remember putting on my boots, and my leather jacket and heading for the door, surprised to see Mark standing in the doorway, blocking it…He told I wasn't leaving the loft, because he wasn't letting me near any drugs-except maybe pot. That was night I gave Mark the first black eye.

There were plenty more injuries that Mark would receive over the next two months. Mark sacrificed his almost non-existent social life to keep me locked up. He knew the second he left me alone, I'd give into the horrible withdrawals.

By this point, I also knew I was HIV positive. For the first while, I would have rather just died, than take the AZT prescribed by my doctor. Mark literally had to shove them down my throat.

That's all you need to know for know. My life is like a puzzle. It's still missing too many pieces to make a clear picture.

This year of my life is going to be the one that I hope to find my one song glory during. It's not a simple tale, nor is it one for the weak-hearted. This is my story about moving on, and putting my life back together.

Putting my life back together and moving starts now-by picking up the guitar I haven't played in so long.


End file.
